Tutoring A Dragon

One

One Cold Saturday......

As she was walking from McGonagall's office Hermione Granger, Muggle-born witch and seventh year Gryffindor contemplated the decision she'd just made.

"Can't believe I accepted--or did I volunteer?--McGonagall's offer to let me be a tutor. What Harry and Ron are going to say I haven't a clue-" She was cut off of her mumblings and moaning by coming up on the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"As you are the first prefect I've seen today, young lady, you get to set the password for the next week," said the Fat Lady.

"Oh, I guess I do then," said Hermione, not really thinking. "Tudor."

"Excuse me?" said the Fat Lady. "What kind of a password is 'Tutor'?"

"Not 'tutor', 'Tudor'. You know the House of Tudor? The one where Queen Elizabeth I came from." Hermione rolled her eyes discreetly. This was coming from a portrait who could remember when Elizabeth came to Hogwarts.

"Very well, then. Tudor it is," the Fat Lady said, sniffing imperiously and swung open.

It was a Saturday, and a cold one, so most of the Gryffindors stayed in their warm tower. Including almost all the prefects and Harry.

Harry and Ron were playing Exploding Snap beside the fireplace. Something happened that Hermione didn't see, and it resulted in Harry winning that round. Ron grumbled, and said something to Harry, who nodded and picked up the cards and put them away.

Hermione stalked over to them, sat on a couch, buried her head in a pillow and screamed.

"What's the matter, love?" asked Ron. He had recently told Hermione how he felt about her and felt perfectly secure calling her terms of endearment.

"I just bloody accepted--or did I volunteer?--McGonagall's offer for me to be a tutor. First sodding month of seventh year, and I get stuck with tutoring some dense kid," Hermione said before she screamed into the pillow again.

"Who'd you get, Herms?" asked Harry, ignoring Ron.

"I don't know. We aren't allowed to tutor kids from our own House, so it'll be someone from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or, ick, Slytherin. McGonagall said that I'll meet him--or her, Ron--tomorrow at seven in the Library. So, immediately after dinner I'll be going there."

"What are you tutoring this person in, love?"

Hermione looked at Harry and rolled her eyes; Harry followed her example.

"Um, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology. Charms, maybe. It depends if he/she wants me to."

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Hermione walked into the Library on Sunday. She was tired already, having spent the whole day playing and all-castle game of hide-and-go-seek with Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Parvati, Lavender, and Luna. It took hours for Harry (who was it) to find all of them, seeing that they'd run and hide when he got anywhere near them. Still, it was hilarious fun, since the people who were hiding had enchanted walkie-talkies to communicate with. Or, more likely to tell how Harry had almost caught them and to tell the others which way he was going now. All the other students thought them extremely silly, especially the Slytherins, who laughed loudly and sardonically whenever they caught sight of the Gryffindors. Back to the subject, however. Hermione looked everywhere until there was only the Muggle Studies section left. She trudged towards it, grumbling. As she turned the corner she saw the person she least expected to see.

Draco Malfoy had changed since their fifth year. He had gotten to be about six and a half feet tall. He no longer wore his hair greased back; he'd grown it out and spent a great deal of his time tucking it behind his ears, or tossing his head back to get it out of his eyes. He also had worked out, to all appearances, and, needless to say, he looked good. He wore a lot of black robes, most likely to show off his sliver-gray eyes and pale, shoulder length hair. But the most shocking thing that had changed about him was that he wore black Muggle motorcycle boots.

But, then again, Hermione had changed too. She had grown to be about five feet eight, which wasn't that tall, just a bit above average. She'd worked out a spell to de-frizz her hair, so it now fell to the middle of her back in blond-streaked chocolate brown soft curls. She'd started to run, during the summer, and she kept it up at Hogwarts, too. Every day she ran around the lake, and to do so she got up at five. Her eyes had changed from muddy brown to a golden hazel color. Her favorite robes to wear (besides her school robes) were Muggle blue jeans and a sweater. She was wearing them that evening, when she turned that corner.

"Malfoy?" she said, shocked. McGonagall had told her that she had been requested by the person she would be tutoring, so she had thought it would be a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw for certain. But Malfoy? Never in a thousand years.

"Yeah, that's right Granger. Me, Malfoy. I requested for you to tutor me, alright. So get over your shock here and now, because you'll be seeing more of me," he drawled as he saw her shocked expression.

"Why?" she asked, still shocked beyond many words.

"Why? Well, because you are the smartest person in this whole sodding school and because I want to piss off my father. He'll be right ticked when he finds out that my tutor is a Gryffindor and a Mudblood, no less. So put your books down dirty-blood and we can get started." He sneered at her. An amused kind of sneer, but a sneer nevertheless.

Hermione glared at him. Little did she know that he'd watched them play that afternoon, almost hoping he would be able to join them in their frivolity. But no, he was a Malfoy, and a Malfoy never had fun outside of his work for the Dark Lord, of course.

"Well, then let's get started," she said grudgingly. "The sooner we start, the sooner you'll learn, and the sooner I'll get you off my hands, so to speak."

He looked at her, puzzled. "What does-" he started.

"It's a Muggle expression. It means that the sooner that you learn what I'm to tutor you in; the sooner I can be rid of you," she said quickly, interrupting him.

"Oh," he said. "Well I need help in Transfiguration more than anything else, so..."

Hermione pulled a book out of her bag and sighed. This was going to be a long night.

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She climbed through the portrait hole around eleven and stomped over to yet another couch and screamed into a pillow again. She stopped five minutes later when Ron tapped on her shoulder tenuously, and flinched when she whipped up and around to look at him.

"What?" she snapped.

He flinched. "How did your tutoring session go, love?" he asked warily.

Just then Harry tumbled into the common room. His clothes and hair were tousled, and his glasses were hanging off his right ear.

"Harry!" exclaimed Hermione, rushing over to him.

"What's the matter mate?" asked Ron.

"Malfoy...corridor in front of the Library...started it, not me...got a few swings in after he insulted my mum..." Harry gasped out. He was on edge lately, since it was his seventh year; the year he would duel with the Dark.

Hermione wrung her hands. To take her friends side, or to take her pupils side? What to do, what to do....

"I do wish you wouldn't respond to him, Harry. That's why he so mean; he likes the reaction he gets out you, Ron, and me. If we stopped reacting to him, he wouldn't insult us as much." Or he would insult us more, she thought.

He looked up at her strangely. "Why are you defending him, Herms? You don't like him, do you? Oh, God I hope not," he said as if the idea was poison on his tongue.

"No, of course not, Harry. It's just....You asked how my tutoring session went, Ron?" Ron nodded. "Well, I'm tutoring Malfoy. Apparently he asked specifically for me."

Ron and Harry stared at her, open-mouthed in horror. "Why, Hermione?" was the first thing out of their mouths after ten minutes of uncomfortable silence.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because him asking for my help is sort of like he's admitting a Muggle-born can know more about a subject than a pureblood can. And that tutoring him is like lording that over him. So, maybe subconsciously I'm extracting revenge from him. And now I'm going to bed so I can subconsciously prepare for tomorrow. Night Ron, Harry." And, with that, she stomped upstairs to the seventh year girls' dormitory, where she pulled off her jeans and sweater and put on a pair of leopard print pajamas and crawled into bed to sleep off Malfoy-jitters.

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Hermione put on her uniform, and glared at her roommates, who were talking about some Quidditch player from Scotland. And giggling, endless giggling. It got annoying after the first, oh, five seconds. As she left, she heard them start in on her. She sighed and rolled her eyes as she clomped down the stairs to meet Ron and Harry to go to breakfast.

"Alright there Hermione?" asked Ron as slung an arm around her waist.

She looked up at him. "Remove your arm, Ronald Weasley. Or so help me God, I will write your mother!"

He turned paler than usual, making him look like a carrot. "No need to threaten me, Herms. And you know mum would fry me like a piece of bacon if she knew about us," he said, grinning.

Hermione looked at Harry who rolled his eyes. "Ron, mate, how many times do I have to tell you? I don't think she's interested. You should get used to it," said Harry tiredly.

They walked into the Great Hall to be met by a smirking Malfoy.

"Hey, there, Granger. Ready to tutor me tonight? I'll be waiting, same time, same place," he drawled.

Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Neville had to hold onto the back of Ron's robes to keep him from going after Malfoy.

"He. Insulted. Your. Honor," hissed Ron, as he fought their hold on them.

"I know, Ron. But I want to deal with him. You forgot, I'm his tutor. I can torture him in ways you would never dream of. Like making him recite the fifty-five rules of transfiguring a mouse into a saltshaker," Hermione said, slowly letting go of Ron's robes.

Ron shuddered at the thought of those fifty-five rules, which Hermione had made him and Harry learn by heart the previous year. Then he grinned. "No one knows how to make studying even worse then it already is like you, Herms," he said walking over to the Gryffindor table and sitting down.

"Thanks," she said without thinking. "Wait a minute...Hey! Ron..." she said, falsely indignant.

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Hermione walked into her second class of the day, which happened to be Arithmancy. She had forgotten that this was one of the three classes that she had with Malfoy. Not many people had decided to keep Arithmancy after their third year. Just she, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, a Ravenclaw named Jeremy Walsh, another Ravenclaw named Lacy Jenkins, and Malfoy.

She slid into the only chair left. Which happened to be the chair next to Malfoy's but you can't have everything, can you?

"I saw your little blood-traitor boyfriend wasn't very happy that you are tutoring me," he whispered. Somehow, he managed to whisper-drawl. Personally, she had no idea how, but he did it.

"Listen here, Malfoy," she hissed at him. "Ron's not, and most likely never will be, my boyfriend. He is just my friend. And just to get things straight between us, I'm not altogether leaping about in joy from the knowledge that I'm stuck tutoring you for what will most likely be the rest of the year. And, if you don't mind, I don't want to talk to you unless I absolutely have to."

He raised his eyebrows at her in mild amusement. Then he shrugged and stretched out in his seat and put his arms behind his head and took a nap.

Napping at the beginning of a class! she thought furiously. Then she got an idea. She pulled out her in-case-of-a-humongous-zit makeup kit and "made up" Malfoy. When he woke up, it would be hilarious, but he'd be madder than a cornered viper. But it'd be worth it.

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Harry and Ron were walking down the corridor to pick up Hermione so they could walk to their next--and last--class of the day.

"Fight! Fight! Fight, fight, fight, fight, fight!" yelled a small crowd.

Harry and Ron looked at each other before they started to push through the crowd. As they neared the center, they encountered Hermione's Arithmancy classmates who wouldn't meet their glances.

As Harry and Ron pushed into the center of the crowd, they found Malfoy yelling at Hermione, who was trying not to laugh.

"....And while I was asleep, too, Granger! No one does this to a Malfoy, and I mean no one! Watch your back you filthy mudblood bi-" he was cut off by Ron punching his nose. Blood flew out and Malfoy doubled over, clutching his face. As he stood up straight, he glared at Ron. "Oh, you'll pay for that one, Weasel. You'll pay for it, but not today. Someday when you least expect it, I'll get back at you. Someday, remember that Weasley. Remember that." He glared at Harry and his lip curled. "Potter. Knew you'd be here, always coming to the defense of your little Mudblood sweetheart." He turned his gaze to Hermione. "I'll see you in the Library tonight. Bring your Charms text." After this, he swept off, entourage following in his wake.

Hermione sucked back a giggle and looked at Ron and Harry.

"Well, that was unexpected, wasn't it?" she said to them. Then she turned in the direction that Malfoy had walked off in. "Eight o'clock sharp, Malfoy! If you aren't there, I'll report you!" she screamed after him. He yelled something back that sounded like "I'll sodding be there you-" and then was either cut off by a teacher or he realized he was making a fool out of himself.

Hermione grinned, picked up her bag, and walked towards the Charms corridor, Harry and Ron following her speechlessly.